


got me wrapped around your finger

by insincerely



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: M/M, who would i be as a person if i didn't follow this up with porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-22 17:56:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14314065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insincerely/pseuds/insincerely
Summary: But deep down, Erik knows it'll destroy him completely, denying both himself and T'Challa this one tiny piece ofgoodin a world that's been nothing but cruel and unforgiving.(sequel togot me tongue tied)





	1. Chapter 1

“Y'know,” Erik starts casually, turning to catch the top of T'Challa’s head in his peripheral. “it’d be so easy to stab you right now.”

“Mmhm.” comes T'Challa’s reply, muffled as he buries his face further into the crook of Erik’s neck.

“I’m just sayin’,” Erik continues, shrugging his shoulder (the one that’s opposite T'Challa’s side, because he’d hate to rouse the man from his post-orgasm bliss) before letting his eyes drift up to the ceiling. “I could reach under my pillow, grab the knife I’ve been hidin’ and just go full Slasher on your ass. Ain’t nobody here to stop me too.”

“Uh-huh.” T'Challa mumbles, lips brushing against Erik’s collarbone. “I’m most certain you could.” His legs rub against Erik’s under the blankets. “Perhaps later, when it isn’t as cold anymore, N'Jadaka.”

If it had been a year ago, the mention of that name would’ve been enough to send Erik into a fit of rage– now though, he barely feels a dull thud in his chest, sufficiently distracted by how perfectly it rolls out of T'Challa’s tongue.

“I dunno, man. You’re still pretty fucked out. Think I got a better chance of killin' you while you’re still recoverin' from the best dick of your life.”

T'Challa snuffles a laugh at that, his cheek pressing up against Erik’s chest as his lips curve up in amusement. “That mouth of yours.” he says, making no effort to hide the fondness in his voice.

At this point, Erik _could_ be offended at the blatant disregard of his threat, but he isn't fooling anyone, not when he hasn't meant any of it ever since a year ago, when he'd stood before the royal council, looked straight at T'Challa and no one else as he said, "I want you."

Sometimes, Erik thinks about taking it all back; push T'Challa away with the ugliest sneer he could muster, tell him right there and then, "You really think I meant any of that shit?"

But deep down, Erik knows it'll destroy him completely, denying both himself and T'Challa this one tiny piece of _good_ in a world that's been nothing but cruel and unforgiving.

(Especially now that he knows so many things– knows that T'Challa curls his toes when he’s close to orgasm, knows that T'Challa likes having the nape of his neck scratched, and that, in the early morning light, T'Challa's eyes have speckles of ember in them, reminiscent of the Wakandan sunset.)

So instead, Erik reaches around and pulls T'Challa closer, burying his nose in thick curls as he mumbles, “Tomorrow then. I'm definitely ending your ass tomorrow."

T'Challa runs a hand over his chest, laying his palm right over Erik's heart. “Yes. After breakfast?”

Erik pretends to contemplate on it, making a humming noise that runs through T'Challa from the point where they're connected. "Aight," he concedes with an air of finality. Then he grins, lower canines glinting before he adds, "and a good morning blowjob too."

T'Challa's huff of laughter is warm against Erik's skin, almost as warm as his body tucked securely by Erik's side. "I'm glad we've come to an agreement."

And yeah, Erik is too. More than glad, even, if the light, soft flutter in his chest– right by his heart– is indication enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it's a special form of intimacy, the way Erik just _knows_ even with his eyes closed. He'd recognize that sweet mouth and those nimble fingers any day, anywhere, unable to deny its familiarity even if it would mean his death.

Erik wakes up to sunlight pooling behind his eyelids, no doubt streaming through the wall-length window, and to the sensation of soft, plush lips brushing against the underside of his cock.

He stirs, but it's unhurried, and more for the sake of spreading his legs further so T'Challa has more room to work with from where he's crouched over Erik's lap.

(And it's a special form of intimacy, the way Erik just _knows_ even with his eyes closed. He'd recognize that sweet mouth and those nimble fingers any day, anywhere, unable to deny its familiarity even if it would mean his death.)

"Fuck," Erik groans, one hand blindly groping to touch the top of T'Challa's head. He gets a good grip on his thick curls, nails scraping against T'Challa's scalp as he does so. Cracking one eye open, he's met with T'Challa own round ones, glittering in the morning light. "Damn, baby. And we ain't even had breakfast yet."

T'Challa tilts his head to the side, never breaking eye contact as he sticks his tongue out and licks around Erik's cockhead once. "What do you mean? This _is_ breakfast."

T'Challa doesn't give Erik enough time to react, barely letting him utter another curse before he shifts from teasing to downright nasty. With Erik's hand still buried in his hair, T'Challa ducks his head back in between Erik's legs, lets Erik watch his mouth– that same mouth that can unfurl into the prettiest of smiles– swallow him down in one stroke.

"Ohhh, _fuck_ ," Erik jerks under him once before going completely loose-limbed, thick bottom lip caught between his teeth as pleasured noises bubble up his throat, coming out strained and almost muted.

After a few seconds of this T'Challa pulls off, working Erik with deliberate, long strokes to keep him hard as he says, "Don't hold back, N'Jadaka– I want to hear you."

Erik breaks into a grin at that, both eyes now gazing at T'Challa with what he can admit is pure adoration. "Yeah? Shit, you gettin' freakier by the day, baby." Then he licks his bottom lip, now swollen and flushed pink from where he'd been chewing on it. "Go on then, suck my cock– take it all the way down like I know you can."

T'Challa's eyes darken, a stark contrast to the light of daybreak now pouring into the room, casting T'Challa in a majestic glow as he takes Erik into his mouth again. He wastes no time in bobbing his head, swallowing Erik down inch by thick inch.

"God _damn_ ," This time, Erik doesn't make a single effort to hold back his moans, stuttered gasps tearing right out of him as the head of his dick breaches the back of T'Challa's throat. "Fuuuuck, yeah, _yeah_ , jus' like that–"

His cock is nice and slick by now, heated flesh glistening with T'Challa's spit and Erik's own precum, wet, slurping noises filling the quiet stillness of T'Challa's quarters, interspersed with Erik's pleasured noises and incessant dirty talk.

Erik's hand drifts from T'Challa's curls to the back of his neck, fingers pressing over the smooth skin, and in one swift movement he suddenly sits up, keeping T'Challa down on his cock with a firm grip. The shift makes T'Challa moan, the vibrations of the sound coursing through Erik's dick, makes him dig his toes into the mattress with how good it feels.

With fevered, heavy-lidded eyes, Erik takes to admiring the rest of T'Challa's form, and from this viewpoint, he realizes that T'Challa's been touching himself, his back curved gracefully as his ass juts out, giving him enough room to close a hand around his own cock.

"Beautiful," he mumurs, unable to stop the swell of emotion that overtakes the lust settling deep in his core. His grip on T'Challa's nape loosens, fingers sweeping towards the curve of his cheek, the smooth skin hot to the touch. "so fuckin' beautiful it's _stupid_ – fuck, baby, the shit you do to me–"

T'Challa makes a small, aborted noise, sounding almost like a whimper as the arm that's semi-hidden from Erik's view moves faster, no doubt quickening the pace around his own dick.

"Yeah, c'mon," Erik encourages him with an upward shove of his hips, desire sitting heavy on his gut at the knowledge that T'Challa's arousal stems not only from Erik's cock down his throat, but also from Erik's praise, the sweet everythings that flow out so naturally whenever they're like this– hidden and tucked away from the world, shielded by their intimacy.

Soon enough, Erik feels the familiar simmer bubbling in the pit of his stomach, balls drawing tight as T'Challa sucks him with increased fervor, no doubt catching on to his impending orgasm. He has T'Challa draw back with a nudge on his shoulder, and with a wet, smacking noise, T'Challa pulls off, long eyelashes blinking up at Erik.

"Where d'ya want it, baby?" Erik asks, jerking himself off fast and hard, thick gluts of cum collecting at the slit.

T'Challa doesn't answer with words and instead licks his swollen, pink lips, hands on Erik's thighs as he leans in again and suckles the head into his mouth. It's enough to push Erik to the brink of his orgasm, T'Challa diligently swallowing each and every drop, eyes slipped shut as if enjoying the main dish of a seven-course meal.

Eventually, even the wet slide of T'Challa's tongue is too much for his oversensitive cock, so Erik lightly tugs at his hair until T'Challa withdraws, looking up at him again with those devastatingly gorgeous eyes and fucked out mouth, a thin trail of saliva and cum dribbling by the corner.

The desire he feels for T'Challa is so staggering that Erik doesn't even have it in him to form words, and instead chooses to tug T'Challa by the arm, dragging him up until they both fall back into bed. T'Challa's chest presses down on his, the wild beating of his heart in sync with Erik's own.

Quietly, gently, Erik takes T'Challa in his hand, jerking him off in fast, even strokes that leaves T'Challa panting, his hot breath puffing against Erik's cheek. The expression he has on his face– stricken and utterly lost to the pleasure– has Erik leaning up to kiss him, groaning when he tastes himself on T'Challa's tongue.

"N'Jadaka," Breaking off the kiss, T'Challa tries to move off of Erik, seconds away from his own orgasm. Erik doesn't let him move, not even an inch, and instead twists his legs around T'Challa's, locking him in place. "please, N'Jadaka, I'm close–"

"Then do it, _T'Challa_ ," His name rolls out of Erik's tongue all honeyed and sweet, and paired with his hand squeezing T'Challa's cock, thumb fervently rubbing at the slit, T'Challa's a goner.

With a gasp, T'Challa comes, his dick jumping in Erik's hand once before he spurts out thick lines of cum all over Erik, every muscle in his body trembling with the overwhelming pleasure. He rides it out with Erik whispering lowly in his ear, his own personal brand of dirty talk that never fails to make T'Challa putty in his hands.

"Thaaaat's it, let all that nut out, baby–"

"–so fuckin' lucky I get to see you like this, cummin' all over me all sexy and shit–"

"Ain't nobody gonna take you away from me, you're mine, _always_ –"

When T'Challa's spent in every sense of the word, Erik rolls him to the side, his hand cradling T'Challa's head until he's settled on the pillows. He basks in the afterglow with barely a thought of anything and anyone else, so distracted with the warmth in his belly that he almost doesn't notice Erik's hand going underneath his own pillow.

"...should I be worried about you going 'Slasher' on me?" T'Challa inquires, but it comes out slurred, sluggish, absent of any real concern. The laugh Erik rewards him with only soothes him further.

"Try again, sweetheart." he replies before placing something cool and solid on T'Challa's chest. Blinking blearily, T'Challa brings it up to his face, mouth parting in a soundless gasp as realization dawns on him.

Compared to the royal ring passed down to him, this one is simple– there are no intricate markings or familial crests, but it fits his finger perfectly and catches the light so prettily.

It's the most beautiful thing anyone's ever given him.

"Yes," T'Challa says, no hint of hesitation at all as he looks up at Erik, all bright eyes and eager smiles.

Erik tries his damnedest to reign in the burst of affection he feels, opting to hide behind the facade a little longer when he replies, "I didn't ask ya anything."

And it means something, the way T'Challa doesn't even flinch. The way his smile doesn't falter, not even for a split second, and instead grows and spreads until he's grinning. The way he slides his hand along the sheets until he reaches Erik's own, thumb rubbing over the knuckles before intertwining his fingers with Erik's.

It means that T'Challa sees right through the bullshit, and knows just as much as Erik how much this moment means for him– for _them_.

"I'm saying yes anyway."

Erik could deny the relief flooding his chest, could deny ever holding his breath in those last few seconds, but in the end, he lets himself sag into T'Challa, forehead pressing against his.

"Damn right you are." he says, and thinks nothing could make this better than it already is.

The sweet, gentle kiss T'Challa places on his lips, pulled up into the most authentic smile he's had in years, proves Erik otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> confession time: this chapter was added for the sole purpose of having t'challa say "this _is_ breakfast" in response to sucking erik's dick somewhere in this fic. i mean, _come on_ , the opportunity was too good to pass up
> 
> btw, i made a [twt](https://twitter.com/pantherbfs) solely for rting killchalla fanart (thank you fanartists, especially from the asian fandom) so if you want some eye candy, check that out

**Author's Note:**

> this is a thing i wrote about a month ago that i never got to posting just bc it's purely self-indulgent timeskip of the ever famous "what if erik's challenge was considered a proposal in wakandan tradition" au... i like to think that erik would still jokingly threaten t'challa even though he literally fucked that same man into the mattress last night
> 
> also i swear i have wips (*coughpwpcough*) but i never have the time to actually sit my ass down and get them done bc of rl stuff
> 
> tl;dr: *caveman grunt* killchalla still good (yes we're calling them that now)


End file.
